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Make-up: Win Liu using M.A.C. cosmetics & Stephanie Shepherd
Hair: Jessica @ Hype Hair Studio
Models: Jessi, Mannu, & Matt C @ Numa Models
Photographer: Ed Ng
These aboriginal children are taking part in a race in which they are pulled along the ground while sitting on a betel nut frond.
I think these are Ami aborigines.
Off with Runyon to his favorite place on earth - Swift Run Dog Park (near the intersection of Platt and Ellsworth and across the street from Lillie Park). Pictures from the morning of Saturday October 15th, 2022 - a quick visit to the park.
Start of the Deutsche Weinstrasse Marathon & Half Marathon
I ran with my nephew during the first 200 meters, then we both ran our own pace.
Transdev Harrogate 307 (YC51 LXZ) stands at Wetherby bus station stand B with a 771 to Harrogate from Leeds.
Looking good for a twelve year old bus.
Market Place, Wetherby, West Yorkshire.
here are my notes on the mociun knock-off dress. i hope they're somewhat helpful! you'll of course want to make a mock-up of your own pattern to make any adjustments. you really don't even need this exact pattern to work with, as long as you have a bodice or something with a similar shape that fits your body.
blog.
Todo esta bien y soy feliz,
si el tiempo paso no se;
cualquier color suena mejor,
volando sin rumbo en mi cuelgue me dejo llevar.
♪
The #56 Mercedes AMG GT4 of Jeff Mosing and Eric Foss powers off turn 5 during qualifying for the Michelin Pilot Challenge Alan Jay 120 at Sebring International Raceway.
They say, When a door is closed another is opened..
They say, There's a lot of chances, when you miss one there will be another..
But, Life is only On or Off
Words by: Me :)
Processed in Adobe Lightroom..
© All rights reserved.
*Comments with photos will be deleted :)
Cut Off, Louisiana is a small community located in coastal Lafourche Parish. The population is about 6,000 with a local Cajun culture that is unique in Louisiana itself. The climate is semitropical and influenced by the Gulf of Mexico. The community lines Bayou Lafourche and the Intracoastal Canal, most of the land is low at around sea level surrounded by a levee. Coastal erosion is a big issue and threatens the very existance of this one of a kind place.
Links to my other photography profiles you are welcomed to visit: 500px | Fine Art America | Pixoto | Facebook
This little sparrow fresh from a bath in a mud puddle, shakes off the excess water.
Taken at Cades Cove in the Smokey Mountains during the FOHHCC trip.
Major Pete Reddan writes a song while leaning on the front tires of a C-17 Globemaster III at Joint Base Charleston, S.C., June 13, 2012. Reddan's military inspired tune, "Off to War", was recently recorded by Nashville recording artist, Brad Anderson. The song was inspired by his experiences during deployments as well as the experiences of the men and women Reddan serves with. Reddan is a 437th Airlift Wing pilot. (U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Ashlee Galloway)
What Do Your Shoes Say About You? Apparently:
"Expensive shoes equal a high-income earner.
Flashy footwear show that the wearer is an extrovert.
Practical shoes mean the person is agreeable.
Old but well-kept shoes belong to a conscientious type of person.
Shabby shoes reveal a liberal thinker."
Personally, I don't agree with the above but food for thought.
We’re granted a lie in, but when my alarm goes off, the extra half hour’s sleep doesn’t seem to have done me much good. I stagger about my bedroom, turning the temperature down on the shower trying to wake myself up into the rootin’-tootin’ health care professional I’m meant to be.
I shave and fix my hair and survey the damage…do I look like a highly skilled paramedic?
Nope.
I look like a pale faced laddie with a hangover from hell.
Oops.
Breakfast is a delicate operation, I tentatively sip tea and nibble on lightly buttered toast, risking an egg and a slice of bacon only once I’m confident they’ll stay down.
We gather in the classroom. Stingray dozes with his head on the desk, Bulk looks ghastly. I’ve resuscitated healthier looking folk.
Uzi and Benito stride in, banging the door against its frame. Seven headaches chorus in response.
“Owwww…..”
This pair excel at keeping a straight face, there are no clues from either of them as to how we’ve done. They’re just as smiley, yet business like as they’ve been through the whole course.
There’s a brief chat and we’re sent for early coffee while they arrange the tutorial room.
And on our return Uzi starts calling us in.
One of us doesn’t make it. They slipped on a practical. As they come back in the room and tell us the bad news it deflates and terrifies us all.
I’m third in.
Benito and Uzi sit in a tiny wee room across the corridor from our classroom, just yesterday I was dealing with the delivery from hell on this very table.
There is no fucking around.
Benito beams and shakes my hand. Uzi does similar. They pass me my grades. They’re good, and my midwife examiner has highly complimentary notes written on my exam.
I’m frustrated to spot my grade from my paediatric practical, it’s the weakest practical mark I’ve had through the whole course. Seems churlish to gripe about it, since I’ve just passed with praise ringing in my ear, but the irony pisses me off.
Not enough to stop me grinning like an idiot and dancing around the classroom when I return, hugging Granny and Midge, bouncing up and down on my heels as nervous elation burns off.
Everyone else returns from their tutorials in much the same fashion, bouncy elation and smiles.
We gather for a group photo (thanks, Vatican), since Midge and I had spent an enjoyable half hour in the trainers office laughing at old photos of Benito, Vatican and NorthCunt passing out from their paramedic exams. It seems important to have a memento of the people whose pockets you lived in for a month and a half. Immediate friends and colleagues without question.
And then…nothing.
An anti-climactic hour where we lounge about on sofas, complete paperwork minutiae and drink more coffee. There is no ticker tape parade, no fireworks or dancing girls. We’ve driven ourselves as hard as we can to this point and found that there is nothing but an absence of study.
I only really grin when I phone the parents and hear my Mum enthusing down the phone that my news is “Bloody BRILLIANT!”
It’s at that point that it hits me.
Yeah, you’re right. It is.
For all our celebrations, hand shakes and shoulder slappings, there’s nothing left to do but bid farewell to everyone as they slide away in their cars, back to normal life and daily routines. Stingray, Midge and I loiter in the car park, hug and step away. I’ll miss everyone, but I made two really good friends in those two.
There’s another month of training waiting for me before I can apply to the HPC for my Paramedic Registration. It’s all based in hospital, with a couple of weeks in operating theatres, a week in coronary care and a week in A&E adding the practical finesse required to do the job well.
Until that’s arranged (and it’ll take a long time) I’m on the road with Pally for the foreseeable future, watching, listening and learning.
My name’s Kal…I’m 27…and I’m going to be a paramedic.
(Photo published with kind permission of all subjects. Back row from left, Sensei, Kal, Bulk, Stingray, Granny Chan. Front row from left, Kappa, Benito, Uzi, Midge.)
by [Scott Bowering].
[Toronto], privately published, nd [late 198os?].
5-1/2 x 7-3/8, silkscreen broadside.
a poem, issued anonymously & printed from photostencils in 2 colours, plausibly for posting around Toronto, though i don't recall ever having seen any about. he seemed to have some trouble with the ink foaming, the resultant texture adding to the virulence of the message. minorly rumpled & with a small tear off the top left corner, looking like it was incurred during printing...
25.oo
"Barak" (F-16C/D) taking off from Hatzor AFB
Photo by: Adi Abu
מטוס "ברק" ממריא מבסיס חצור
צילום: עדי עבו
Rivendell Hunqapillar with Burley Piccolo. I ride my son to school in the morning (~1 mile). He's quite good on his own two-wheeler, but I haven't figured out a safe enough route for us to-be on separate bikes. Maybe come springtime.